Eponine's Henri
by Illa Darling
Summary: In which Eponine chances upon a young boy named Henri, who assumes a special place in her heart. Many are familiar with the tale of Les Mis. But few know of the little boy who made a big difference in Eponine's poor, miserable life. Rated T, just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

In Which Eponine Meets Henri

It was a cold, dark night; the moon's pallid light glowed dimly in the evening sky. Only the black outline of a figure wrapped in a long coat could be perceived in the growing mist. As the person came closer, one could see it was a young man, a cap covering his thick hair and thin, patched clothing for shelter against the growing cold. The harsh bitter wind whipped at his face and bit his thin fingers, but he did not seem to mind. In his shadowy face could be seen the serene expression of thoughtfulness. The boy was musing.

Suddenly, another shadow loomed over him, and with it was brought the cold severity of a commanding air. Under the moon's pale glow, the man's (for it was a man) face shone, pale with anger and chiseled with merciless lines of age and weariness; he stared with marked impatience upon the child and finally, he cried angrily:

"What! And where have you been, boy? Out for a midnight stroll, are we? Come, lost for words, are ye, pretty boy?"

With that, the large man struck with his fist: a dull red began dripping from the boy's cheek.

"Come on!" continued the attacker, the corners of his thin lips curling maliciously, "Speak!" He lifted his hand again, and down with a snap! "Where have ye been, boy? Your mama's worried sick!" The man laughed at some unknown joke of his as the boy, who was now half kneeling on the ground, rubbed his tender jaw and glared at the other with hatred.

At the man's last words, the boy stood quickly, a brave, furious passion bursting in his thin chest, and his clear, loud voice silenced the laughter:

"What have you done with her? Answer me, you cruel, sniveling monster!"

"What did ye say to me?" demanded the other.

"I _said_," began the boy emphatically, "What have you done with my mother, you _cruel, sniveling monster_!"

That 'cruel, sniveling monster' was now staring with a look of disbelief and fury at the passionate man in front of him. Finally the spell was broken, and the older man said with a voice edging towards a scream, "_What did ye say to me? I'll kill ye, I will!_ _You're just like yer mother, you!_"

But before he could lay his hands upon the boy, the boy had slipped skillfully behind him and was running with all the strength he could muster away from his raving father; the sound of the other man's threatening screams slowly dissolved into a silent, still air, and the boy made his way again in the darkness.

…

Eponine shivered, moving closer to the faint warmth of her little fire. Outside, the wind continued howling ferociously—a hungry wolf searching for prey. Protected from the cold night, Eponine had enough gratitude to thank God for her filthy yet secure abode.

As she shuffled close and wrapped herself in a dirty thick sheet, a sharp rap came from the door. She sprung up, the blanket tumbling down to her bare feet.

"Yes?" said she in her hoarse, low voice; she had opened the door just enough to peep warily from the black hole, for the life of the poor is one of fear and suspicion. As she stared out into the dark night from her little gap, her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

A boy, not more than ten or eleven, was standing in front of her, his thin coat unable to preserve his puny body from the winter, as Eponine could clearly observe, for he trembled at intervals as he spoke:

"Please, mademoiselle, will you let me in? I'll stay only a while and I shan't take anything from you, I give my word. Please… it is so cold!"

He was quivering from head to foot; his large black eyes glanced with pathetic misery at the sympathetic girl in front of him.

She let him in, moving back with an expression of dumb wonder, for never in her seventeen years had she witnessed such desperate wretchedness. Eponine had seen the harsh effects of poverty; she had experienced brutal treatment and agony too horrible to mention; life horrid enough to drive one to starvation was not unknown to her. But as she stared at the shivering, scrawny child, his dirty hair dripping and his eyes returning the glance with such knowing grief, she realized just how blessed her poor life was. What child deserves to be robbed of his happy youth at so young an age!

"Mademoiselle, would you mind if I sat by the fire?"

His simple question had been presented with such hopeful delicacy; it woke Eponine from her reverie.

"Of course!" exclaimed she. "Come; remove those drenched clothes of yours!" And so saying, the girl bustled about, changing his filthy rags to reasonably clean, at least to Eponine, warm garments. She wrapped a sheet, the one that had dropped to her feet, around his quivering body, as gently as was possible, for she believed the faintest pressure would break his fragile frame.

At last the boy was properly dressed and sitting comfortably near the small fire. As Eponine sat down in front of him, the crackling fire radiated the small, dark room and she could see the boy's face more clearly.

The boy had a thin face, gaunt cheeks and the red lips of a woman. His fair hair, now scrubbed viciously clean from all signs of grime and filth, was of a light brown, falling down in thick waves to his pale forehead. It was a pretty face, despite the pitifully bony, lean body, but the most striking feature of it were the eyes—marvelous to behold were they! They were large and clear, surrounded by long, curling lashes; the eyes were black, but in the fire's warm, faint glow, they shone and sparkled with the knowledge of the stars; and the best thing about these magnificent great orbs was that they held such mournful wisdom, rare in a young creature, and as if they had their own sad story to tell.

"What is your name?" asked she after a pause, trying to soften her voice but only succeeding in making it very low: she never had been one for gentleness.

"Henri," was the hesitant reply.

"Where are your parents, Henri?"

He answered with a shrug of his thin shoulders, and Eponine fell silent, falling into her own thoughts. When finally she remembered and glanced at the boy, he was already breathing gently, his eyes closed with the weariness of sleep.

As she watched him, Eponine felt something surge into her, something quite unfamiliar to her. She was not sure what it was and it bewildered her, as would anything so strange do, and she reacted by struggling against it, but in vain. This strange feeling, unknown to Eponine, was that of love. She had never before felt it and had thought it simply the thing that bound a man and woman together, such as that between her mother and father—and because of that, she did not care to associate herself with it.

The love she now felt unconsciously for this boy was that of a mother, gentle and devoted, patient and kind. It had been resting in her heart ever since, and now the emotions of sympathy stirred it.

For now, she sighed and waited for morning, quite ignorant of that feeling in her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh dear, I see I've confused a few readers. Please forgive the vagueness of my writing! Many of you have mistaken my Henri for Enjolras, when really he's a completely different character who's only fifteen years of age! I really am sorry for confusing you! Please forgive a distracted writer… Oh, and I have read the book and watched the musical, but this story will not be entirely based on the book alone. Thanks and keep reviewing! :D**

…

In Which Henri Meets Marius, Under Rather Unusual Circumstances

The reader will perhaps have discerned this Henri as the boy at the beginning of the story. This child now shivered and blinked his eyes as they tried with some difficulty to focus on the images in front of him. His surroundings seemed to confuse him; why was he wrapped in a blanket? How had he come to this unfamiliar place? It was a while before he could recall what had happened to him and how he had come upon a small building with a girl who had been gentle and let him inside.

_There she is now_, he thought, observing with great curiosity the sleeping girl in front of him. She was dressed in but a chemise and skirt, but this apparel was not uncommon for the girls in the slums. Fatigue was drawn upon the very outline of the girl, but a peacefulness was also present; had she been awake, Henri would have thought her very ugly—but now, as she sat, head drooping and face free of any expression save that of tranquility, Henri watched her with a sort of fascination, for her very presence radiated with a warmth and gentleness unknown to the boy.

Suddenly she stirred and opened her eyes, falling almost immediately upon his. He started and affected to sleep, but she had seen him, and with a small smile barely observed by her companion, she said:

"Ah! You are awake and you must be hungry!"

At her words, Henri became painfully aware of the pangs threatening his stomach.

"But I have nothing to eat," she continued, an expression of disappointment taking the place of pleasure. "Wait! I shall go out and get something! You must wait here!"

"Please, mademoiselle—"

"Eponine, if you please. I'm no lady," was the interruption.

"Eponine, then, there really is no need to feed another mouth besides your own. I only asked for shelter; I will go now." He stood up and made as if to leave, but her hand found its way quickly to his arm.

"Wait!"

"I am very grateful, but there is nothing I have to give except my word. I promise I'll return and pay my debt when I am able."

"That is not what I mean!" protested the girl. "Where will you go? Have you any parents?"

The impatience that was evident in Henri's countenance changed abruptly, and he stared at her with a mournful, longing air that pierced her heart of iron. "No," said he finally.

"Then where will you go?" asked Eponine again.

"Not sure, mademoiselle, but—"

"Eponine."

"But I will find a way to pay my debt, as I have said before."

"I do not want money." With a simple sentence, Eponine had unknowingly cast aside a barricade between the two, and now Henri looked bewildered.

"Then what is it you want?" he asked with an air of perplexity.

"I ask for nothing save the assurance of your safety," replied the girl simply.

The boy waited a moment before asking for a reason.

It was Eponine's turn to remain silent and ponder. "I don't know," she said, and a feeling of sudden frustration took its toll. "Perhaps I don't want your death on my hands!"

"No," answered Henri thoughtfully, "I don't think that is why."

"Never you mind then!" began Eponine angrily.

"What do you want of me?"

She thought for a moment.

"Well?"

"I want to help you."

This time the lad did not ask why. He simply nodded.

…

The sun was glancing shyly from its hideaway when two young, cheerful persons could be observed walking in the city. One was a young woman, probably eighteen, smiling and wearing a dirty brown cap and patched long coat. She was laughing at something the younger boy was saying; the child was as skinny as his companion, and he smiled with a pleased expression on his gaunt face as he watched the woman's reaction.

The pair reached the market, where the smell of fish and meat penetrated the air and people cried out, "Bread! Bread for sale!" and other such food.

"Well?" asked the woman, whom we of course know as Eponine.

"Well what?"

"What would you like to eat?"

The boy watched her thoughtfully. "Perhaps the least expensive thing here?" he began questioningly.

Eponine laughed. "Don't trouble yourself, Henri! I've enough here for two meals!"

Henri returned the smile; his face glowed with pleasure at the thought of a full meal and Eponine wouldn't have traded that smile for anything in the world!

They walked slowly away from the market with satisfied stomachs.

A young man was trudging quietly through the lane when suddenly he recognized a familiar face and cried:

"Ponine!"

She turned, startled. Henri observed the flush of pleasure that sprung gaily into her cheeks as her dark eyes discerned the newcomer; she replied, "It is you, Monsieur Marius! I have been wondering where you've been!"

He walked quickly to her side, taking no heed of the young boy beside her. "I have a favor to ask of you, 'Ponine. Will you help me?"

"I will do it!" said she, eagerly as Henri noticed.

"Did you see that young girl who was walking with her father yesterday? The father was rather old, and his head was white as snow."

A shadow darkened her cheerful face, contrasting sharply against the young man's excited features. "You mean the lady, monsieur?"

"Yes! She was beautiful, was she not? Come, will you find her house for me? I am begging you, 'Ponine!"

"What will you give her for it?" asked Henri suddenly, his steady eyes watching the trembling Eponine carefully.

"Anything!" cried Marius, seeming not to notice from whence the words had come.

"I will find her," answered Eponine faintly, yet her courage impressed the thin, young observer.

"God bless you, Eponine! You know your way about here better than anyone I know!" With a joyful shake of her hand he was gone, entering once more into his world of transported ecstasy.

"Will you do it?" Henri asked quietly once he was out of sight.

"What? Oh, yes, I suppose I must. Come, Henri. Let's go back home."


	3. Chapter 3

In Which Henri Flies into a Little Temper.

"Why, if it isn't little Henri!"

Henri stopped his slow trudge and turned swiftly round as the familiar voice reached his ears. A tall young man was smiling gravely at him, books in one arm and even more books in the other! He was standing a few feet away, and Henri thought he looked like an angel from heaven as he walked towards him in the sunshine.

The smile had not disappeared as the newcomer continued: "I was wondering where you were. You know I am a keen observer, Henri," said he with a laugh, "Didn't you think I'd notice you weren't listening to my 'lectures' any more?"

Henri, whose little face had begun to shine with pleasure, replied with a rather warm flush to his cheeks, "I was busy, Monsieur Enjolras. That is all. But why are you in such good spirits? That's a rare bright look in your eyes, monsieur."

Another laugh escaped the young man, which was rather sharp and hurt Henri's ears, if not his tender heart, for unknown to Enjolras, the little child was one of his greatest admirers. "Do you think you're going to sway me by changing the subject? Well! I'll find out what you've been up to, little urchin!"

"No, you shan't," said the boy boldly, "I'll never tell anyone, and you'll have to be satisfied with that. Come; tell me why you're in such a fine mood."

But the former words of the gamin were useless, for behind him a breathless voice cried, in a chagrined yet obviously relieved, tone, "Where have you been, Henri? You worried me to death! Don't you go running of like that again. Promise me!" Eponine, for it was indeed the gamine, took his hand with obvious tender affection.

At once Enjolras's smile disappeared and he looked at this newcomer in a peculiar way Henri did not understand. The young boy sighed, but as he looked up at the girl's relieved, happy eyes, he couldn't help but press her hand and smile reassuringly, added with a gentle, "Oh, I never shall again!"

Her confidence restored, she realized that they were not alone and her eyes met with the young man in front of them. Immediately, the same guarded expression Enjolras was wearing, the girl asked in her low voice,

"Who is he, Henri?"

"That's Monsieur Enjolras," said the child carelessly, "he is a student who meets with others at the ABC café."

"One of the revolutionists?"

He replied in the affirmative. Eponine observed the young man boldly. He returned the stare proudly but could not help admiring the girl's courage—"if that is what you call courage," thought Enjolras.

Finally, he could stand her mistrustful glance no longer and said in a loud, clear voice, "Who is your friend, Henri?"

"She's my sister."

"Of course not," retorted the other, "I am well aware you are an only child."

"Yes, but that was before. But this is now. And now, I have a sister."

"May I talk with you alone?"

He caught sight of the sudden grasp of the girl's hand on the child's. Despite the girl's warning glances, Henri eyed the young student and asked, "Will you tell me why you were in such high spirits?"

"Yes."

Henri exchanged a long look with Eponine, while Enjolras stood, bewildered, a few feet away, completely in the dark as to what they were saying with their large clear eyes. With an assuring nod to Eponine, the boy moved closer to Enjolras and said, "Here then! I'm alone."

"But that girl is still…" He had glanced towards the gamine but to his great astonishment, found she was no longer there. She must have crept away while Henri had his attention.

"Come!" began Henri impatiently.

"You look better than last I saw you," was the other's remark.

"Yes, but what were you going to tell me?"

"More skin on your bones, and there's a healthy tint in those cheeks," continued Enjolras, studying his young friend.

With a sigh, Henri glanced around him, hoping to catch sight of the familiar brown cap, patched coat, and small frame of Eponine. "You shouldn't have made her go away," said he. "Never mind. I will find her."

He made as if to go, but Enjolras quickly grasped his arm. "I only meant to ask you if she is taking care of you," began the student quietly.

By his grave tone, Henri knew Enjolras was serious. "Yes, she is. There! I've told you, so let me go." He struggled to release himself.

"Do you know who she is? Henri, are you sure she's to be trusted?" Here, the child began to speak but the young man continued: "I've seen this girl before. Here, in the ABC café. She wanders about and of late, I've seen her watching one of our men closely. This is no normal matter, Henri. She might be a thief, or who knows what in this city!"

Finally, Henri was able to extricate himself from the man's tight grasp. He looked up so that his face shone clearly in the day and Enjolras was surprised to see there were tears in his eyes.

"Since when did you care?" he cried. "Since when did you care where I lived or who took care of me? Eponine is a wonderful, gentle, caring girl who took notice of me like you did, but unlike you, she took me in and cared for me!" His breathing slowed and his trembling frame calmed. "Good day, monsieur," said he gravely and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

In Which the Young Revolutionists Meet at the ABC Cafe One Last Time

Enjolras wandered around the streets, watching people pass by. Each French citizen had his own place to hurry to; a mother, pulling her child impatiently to her feet, hurried and was quickly enveloped into a loud buzzing sound that came from a group of women chatting in a corner; a young girl was making her way slowly to the market, too relaxed under the pleasant haze of the sun to be in a hurry to complete her errands; men disappeared into shops and taverns, laughing boisterously as they went. Young students walked quietly by, making their way back to the dark silence of the lecture room.

But Enjolras continued his little exercise. He had nowhere to go; there was no welcome home waiting for him—his parents cared not a wit for what he dedicated his entire life to. There was no one expecting him.

At least, not at the moment. It was noontime; but when the soft, dark evening came, then! Then a whole company would be waiting for him, in that happy, bright ABC café! That was perhaps the best and worst time of day for the rich young student. It was the best because that was the time when familiar, cheerful faces greeted him so pleasantly and he was not alone. It was the worst because sometimes—and more often than not—it became loud and hot and head aching in that small shop, where hundreds of voices grew from tiny, individual whispers to one great, unified buzz!

Rather, Enjolras believed he enjoyed being alone. Is the writer contradicting herself now? No, for Enjolras _believed_ he preferred solitude. Little was he aware of how he looked forward to seeing and hearing those other passionate men, each one gathering together for a single purpose: revolution! Little did he know how fond he was of those students and workers, and how much his heart might ache for them if they ceased to meet at the ABC café.

He did not have anyone or anything to care for, and thus, he poured all he had into what was just and right. Liberty! Equality! Fraternity! How those words stirred his very soul!

As he walked around the square, Enjolras shifted his thoughts to what had passed during the morning. Henri had been a regular, little visitor to the ABC café, where the owner of the shop would give him a little bread and water for supper. The tiny urchin would sit down and listen to the students and other young men give passionate speeches and argue with each other. He was a great favorite with Enjolras, who had noticed him from the very beginning. But suddenly, two nights ago, he had stopped coming. Enjolras tried finding him, recollecting what little the gamin had told him about his home and family, but the rich young man soon gave up the attempts. It simply took too much of his time looking for a boy who perhaps knew the streets of Paris better than himself!

Enjolras had been more than relieved when he found Henri standing near a shop; he had been more than surprised, then, to see the suspicious stalker of young Marius accompanying the child.

"Enjolras!"

Interrupted from his thoughts, he turned to see who had noisily summoned his attention. It was that drunken skeptic, Grantaire. Enjolras sighed. Of all the young men who met at the ABC café, Grantaire was the worst. He cared not for liberty, nor the rights of man, nor for revolution. What Enjolras did not know was that poor Grantaire listened to every speech given at the café just for the sake of seeing his idol, Enjolras himself, who to him was perfect in every way.

"What is it, Grantaire?"

"The others sent me to look for you," replied the drunkard, offering a dirty hand and a silly grin. "They are all waiting for you."

"Well, come on then! Or are you going to skip my lecture? Hurry up!" Enjolras didn't wait for a reply. He hurried away to the others, without giving a second glance to the poor Grantaire.

Cheerful shouts of greeting arose as Enjolras appeared at the doorway. "Where have you been, Enjolras?" "As you're none too early by my watch, you owe me a drink!" "Oh, don't mind Lesgles! You said you'd deliver a speech today! Out with it!"

Enjolras looked around him, hoping to see the small glowing face of Henri. Finally, seeing there was no child present in the room, he moved forward, pushed himself onto one of the several tables the men were gathered around, and said solemnly:

"I need some time to think first."

With that, he bent down and forced his full attention onto the pile of papers that lay before him. Instantly, the room, once intense with a still, quiet atmosphere, was bursting with noise, as the men began arguing and speaking all at once.

He could still distinguish the voices of some of the students.

Combeferre the philosopher: "At Notre Dame the sections are prepared!"

"At the rue de Bac they're straining at the leash!" came the voice of poetic Feuilly.

"… like the river of the tide, Paris is coming to our side!" cried passionate Courfeyrac.

As he listened to these announcements, his heart pounding excitedly, Enjolras was quite unaware of the two strangers who had entered quietly entered the room and were sitting in a corner farthest from him. Entirely covered from head to foot, they were unrecognizable, but one seemed to be only a child, by way of height, while the other was taller but just as skinny.

Completely unconscious of those two newcomers, Enjolras stood up and, holding his hands up, cried, "Silence!"

The dizzying buzz of the room instantly hushed—the two newcomers started.

In a loud voice ringing with impatience for justice, he began, "The time is near. So near, it's stirring the blood in our veins! And yet beware. Don't let the wine go to your brains!" and here he gave a sharp look at Grantaire, who wasn't at his sober best and was grinning wide from the attention, "For the army we fight is a dangerous foe…"

On he continued, oblivious to what was happening among his companions. How unconscious he was of all the hearts he was stirring! More than one person in the room felt his soul tremble with passion as Enjolras cried out,

"We need a sign! To rally the people, to call them to arms! To bring them in line!"

Suddenly the door creaked open and a young man with dark curly hair walked softly in, a shade of red colored noticeably on his usually marble cold cheeks. As he entered, many people turned to look, some amused with his embarrassment, others laughing outright. Giving a stern, "Marius, you're late,", Enjolras noticed the thin, taller stranger give a sudden start at the name and then turn to look at the floor, his face hidden under the brim of a cap.

Enjolras's eyes narrowed, but he thought no more of the matter at the moment, for Joly's voice cut the sharp silence: "Marius, what's wrong with you today? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

As Enjolras turned to hear Marius' explanation, the two strangers stood up and hurried out of the room.

**I wrote this chapter rather vaguely, so my apologies if you had a difficult time reading through it. I was listening to a bunch of songs from the Les Miserables 25th anniversary, especially Do You Hear the People Sing?... Karimloo was just so brilliant that I couldn't help glancing at the video as I wrote. I think I replayed it a hundred times! Anyways, hope you enjoyed! :D  
**


	5. Chapter 5

A Short Chapter In Which Henri Learns of Eponine's Love for a Young Revolutionist

Henri pulled Eponine out of the ABC café. She did not resist, and yet she did not relent; her large dark eyes never left young Marius's face. Once they had escaped to the dark streets of Paris, Henri's breathing returned to him.

"Well! What a stuffy little shop that was, wasn't it? So crowded!" remarked Henri, observing his companion's face.

She did not answer.

"And I didn't know Monsieur Marius was a revolutionist! After so many visits to that place, I never even recognized him! I hardly recognized anyone really, except for Monsieur Enjolras and that drunken Grantaire," continued the boy, watching Eponine's face carefully, "Is it true you've been visiting the revolutionists too?"

Eponine colored slightly. "Yes," she answered slowly.

Henri shrugged his little shoulders. "I'm sorry if you're offended. I don't mean to pry," he began, and though he said this with an affectation of carelessness, the honesty and concern in his magnificent eyes and quiet voice told Eponine he was in earnest.

"No, no," said she quickly, "you have a right to know all. I used to visit the ABC café often because," here a beautiful pink blush came to her cheeks and her explanation, at first hasty, grew slow and soft, "because I knew Monsieur Marius went there."

Henri could have laughed right there, but something mournful in his friend's voice and air stopped him, and instead of laughing, he thought he might have cried for her sake.

"But no matter," said Eponine suddenly, "he noticed me but never cared for me as I did for him."

"And instead used you like a dog running errands," muttered Henri angrily under his breath, but firmly, in a voice quite loud so that she could hear him: "Then he don't deserve you! Come on, 'Ponine, don't find that rich lady for him. He isn't worth it."

Eponine, who had been standing quite still beside him, shook her head violently. "No," was the decided reply, and though her voice quivered, Henri knew she was determined. "I will… I must find the girl. For him, you see, for him!"

These short murmurs continued for a while, and it seemed Eponine had forgotten all about her little companion; Henri shook his head sadly and, turning his head slightly, heard the door of the shop open and a hearty laugh from the revolutionists fill the silent air.

With alarmed urgency, Henri pulled Eponine to her feet and they both ran silently a mile further from the shop. Hidden behind an old black gate and covered by the quiet blackness of night, they watched as the young revolutionists poured out of the café, armed with torches and bright, shining eyes of hope and passion.

Thus, the students marched firmly out into the streets, crying of liberty and revolution. Further and further Eponine and her young friend ran, but Henri could still hear the eery sound of the revolutionary cry, "When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"

**Sorry for writing such a short story... I couldn't help adding the "Do You Hear the People Sing" part. Just came back from playing tennis and I'll write the next chapter soon! I hope I'm going somewhere with this story... :D Oh, and sorry if I don't write that much; my school's been a rough one this week. **


	6. Chapter 6

In Which Enjolras Does Young Henri a Favor

Last night had been a success—hopefully the people sleeping in their houses had heard the glorious voices of the young revolutionists as they marched triumphantly through the streets. The leader of the students was assured, at least, that his own little army's confidence was renewed.

Rubbing his hands, which ached from the pages he had written, and resting his weary eyes, Enjolras sighed. It did not matter that he tried his hardest: his thoughts continued to run on their own, and they were all related to the young Henri and his new friend. Perhaps he was only interested in the suspicious character of Marius' follower; or could it be he actually worried about Henri? Who knows? He only knew that he could not think of anything else.

Heaving another deep sigh, he forced all his will-power and energy together and threw himself once more into the world of revolution, liberty and justice. "I will conquer this," thought he to himself, "I will finish this book at least, before I begin thinking once more about those _two person_s!"

But it was not meant to be. The door of the café burst open and he could hear quick, short footsteps running towards him, each step louder than the first. He knew those footsteps anywhere—or, perhaps Henri was the only child he knew besides Gavroche, and Gavroche never ran like that. It was too hasty, too desperate, in a way.

He was right.

"Monsieur! Monsieur Enjolras!" came the familiar, clear voice of Henri.

"So you've decided to show yourself?" replied the leader of the rebellion, in a rather irritated tone, for though he was aware that he had been longing to see the child for quite some time, he was too proud to admit it and indeed, the fact that Henri had not been present to see the glorious march through the streets was disappointing.

Henri seemed not to have heard him. "Monsieur Enjolras, please, I need your help!" cried he between quick breaths, and Enjolras came to the conclusion that the boy had been running a rather far distance.

"What is it?" was the calm, assured answer, although Enjolras's curiosity flamed and somewhere inside of him an anxious care for the child awoke.

"It is… monsieur, it is Eponine! I cannot find her! I woke up this morning and she was gone!"

The excitement in the older man abruptly dissolved. "Oh, is that all?" said he. "She's probably abandoned you, just as I thought she would," he continued in spite of himself.

The boy looked at him directly, and Enjolras could see the hurt and disappointment plain in the younger boy's eyes. "Never mind, monsieur," began the child steadily, "I'll ask Monsieur Marius instead. He will more likely be willing to…" he checked himself just in time and said instead, "He will more likely know where she is. Goodbye, monsieur." He gave a quick bow and hurriedly left the café.

At once Enjolras's remorse coursed through him, and he chided himself thoroughly. "And here you are, upsetting little Henri after wanting to see him for such a long time!" he said angrily to himself, if that is possible. "Well, might as well go and look after him!" And so saying, the student stood up, arranged his papers quickly, took one more look at them, and hurried out after the child.

"Wait! Henri! Henri, you little scoundrel, stop at once!"

Henri turned reluctantly, but much to his pleasure, saw his idol running towards him.

"Henri, forgive me for speaking so rudely, will you?"

"Are you in earnest?" asked the child without a moment's thought.

"I am."

"Then of course I do. Is that all you were chasing me for?"

"I wasn't chasing you," he began to protest, but then swiftly and wisely changing his tone into one of complete humility, "Well; I'll help you look for Monsieur Marius, to show you I'm truly and earnestly sorry."

"One of those will do," muttered Henri, referring to the synonyms "earnestly" and "truly", but his eyes had brightened and his voice was cheerful. "Alright then. Come on."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"Why, to Monsieur Marius's residence, surely!"

Enjolras hurried to the urchin's side and together they trudged onward, to the little, dilapidated building where Monsieur Marius lived. And the student was quite unaware of the delight the child felt in walking beside his tall, well-built frame.

##############################

"Excuse me," began Enjolras politely to the old, toothless hag who answered the door. She grinned evilly, eyeing him with both suspicion and delight, which confused the student greatly. "Do you know if Monsieur Marius is in?"

The toothless grin dropped and the old woman answered, with obvious disappointment, "Is that all ye wanted? An' here I was hopin' you were here fo' rent! Well, no use lingerin' on such things. No, he ain't here. Off with you, then!"

"Wait," persisted the student. "Do you know where he's gone?"

The hag's grin reappeared. "What'll ye give me for't?"

Enjolras could feel Henri's pleading eyes upon him. He took out two sous. "Here," said he, as the woman laughed with immense pleasure, and Enjolras thought he saw the happiest queen of Paris right in front of him, without the dignity, of course, to name a few…

"Well?"

"Ah, a young girl came this mornin', and asked fo' the young student—he's quite the studier, ain't he? The man went down and talked some wi' her, and then they both of them left."

"Where?" asked Enjolras impatiently.

"Another sou," returned the hag.

The coin clinked and the goodlady smiled. "Well," continued she, "I heered them a'talking, I did. And the girl was saying she 'found her' and would 'take him there right away, if he wanted', though she didn't seem happy 'bout it, I tell ye. And I heered him sayin' where it was, an' her tellin' him it was at the Rue Plumet, or something like. She looked downright miserable, really, but the young man was just smilin' as if he were the 'appiest man in the world. Is that good enough for ye?"

"Yes, thank you," said Enjolras quickly, and, dragging Henri along with him, ran as fast as he could from that old, crooked building.


	7. Chapter 7

In Which Eponine Suffers and Enjolras Triumphs

Eponine waited quietly.

She lay hidden in a corner, sheltered by both the little wilderness of bushes that surrounded her and the empty blackness of night. There were no stars to add light to the sky; the moon shone softly on her own.

Hugging her knees till her arms ached from the strain and staring mournfully at the moon as if pleading for the arrival of the brilliant sun, Eponine wondered if Marius had entered the garden yet. She shivered and her thin frame shook slightly—it was a cold night, but that was nothing new to the Thenardier child. There were few things unknown to her.

Suddenly a sound, melodious and soft, shattered the silence. Bending her head intently, she heard Marius' voice singing tenderly:

"A heart full of love…"

So Marius had found his beloved ghost at last. Another voice, hauntingly beautiful and high, began to sing also, soft and sweet, and it did seem as if this love duet was the result of an overflow of their hearts.

Eponine's eyes glistened with tears, but she wiped them away quickly with her dirty sleeve; her arms unwrapped themselves and she placed her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the beautiful sound. But she could not; the voices rose higher and higher, and yet ever so softly.

So she stood up, walking round the gate, and, in attempt to overcome the sound, she began to sing quietly, focusing on her own words instead. Her feelings overwhelmed her and, still hearing those happy voices, she poured out her heart in song.

And then she huddled back into her little corner and waited.

##################################################

Enjolras had a difficult time keeping up with a very anxious little Henri. The child's short legs walked twice as fast as his own, much to the older man's astonishment!

"Calm down, Henri," he said gently, "We will find your friend."

Henri's quick pace slackened until he was finallly motionless, and, with his large worried eyes raised to the student's, he answered softly, "She is more than my friend, monsieur. She is nearly like my own sister. I can't bear to lose her, once I've found someone who really loves me."

By this it was finally clear to Enjolras what the troublesome Eponine meant to the child, but impatience that was perhaps stirred by his own care for Henri made him ask, "Then why did she leave you?"

It was not as impertinent a question as it seemed, for despite the impatient tone in which it was asked, it was obvious that the older man was confused. Henri knew what Enjolras was asking. "She does care for me too, monsieur," was the quiet, assured reply.

"But how do you know? How does that explain her abandonment of you?"

"She did not abandon me, sir," said the child quickly, almost angrily, but, after a few minutes of silence, he continued thoughtfully, "One somehow knows when someone needs him. I don't know how, but I'm sure that Eponine needs me. You don't know what it's like, monsieur, to love someone who won't love you back. You and your glorious revolution are lovers (here Enjolras gave a start), but Eponine is alone. But despite all that, she still does all she can for him."

"Is that what you're doing?" asked Enjolras quietly.

"Yes. Eponine did care for me, like a mother, but she forgot about me for a while. I won't remind her of it—it's because of her that I'm alive—"

"What do you mean?"

Enjolras's hand had gripped at the child's arm, and Henri looked up to see Enjolras's blue eyes looking intensely at him. "I mean that she found me one winter night and took me in when I could have starved," he answered, returning the look steadily. "And I mean that Eponine's love for me gave back meaning to my life, if you know what I mean, when my soul was dead."

Enjolras's grip did not loosen. He stared at Henri, understanding creeping slowly into his eyes.

"Before I met Eponine, I was unhappy. No one cared about me, monsieur, but now someone does."

"Eponine is not the only one who cares for you, Henri," said the other quietly. "I do too, and if you love Eponine, I love Eponine, and I'm going to help you find her. Come on!" And thus saying, he only tightened his hold on Henri's wrist and they both ran swiftly to the Rue Plumet.

###############################################

Eponine began to grow uneasy. She felt something pressing upon her, as if trying to remind her of something. She pondered for a while, tilting her head thoughtfully. A child… wonderful eyes… Henri! She'd forgotten all about him! She had left him all alone! What if he was hungry? Or lost?

Eponine leapt out of her hiding place and ran quickly towards the street, but before she could say a word a black shadow loomed in front of her and something covered her mouth. She struggled for a while, but stopped in astonishment as the face was revealed under the moonlight.

"'Parnasse!"

The man gave a menacing smile and loosed his hold on her.

"'Parnasse, what are you doing here?"

Montparnasse, with his beautiful, alarming smile and innocent eyes, replied pleasantly, "Oh, we're going to do this house in. You remember that man," he continued, stooping down to meet her eyes steadily, "who bumped into your father the other day? The one with a mark on his chest? Well, he lives here, and we might get ourselves a fortune!" His grin widened as he thought of that 'fortune', and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Eponine returned his taunting stare with cool indifference, but her heart was pounding so furiously in her ears that she wondered that her companion did not hear it.

"Well!" said the other with a grunt, "Here's your father now, with the rest of the lot!" His long white hands slid into expensive trousers and he stalked lazily towards the arrived group.

"What am I to do? The sooner I'm through with this, the sooner I'll see Henri again. But what can I do?" wondered Eponine impatiently, the beating so similar to drums growing louder and louder. Finally she could take the pounding no longer and, gathering her courage together, she stepped bravely into the light.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note to my dear readers: there is one part here that is rather different from the musical and more like the book… I simply changed the fact that Marius knew Eponine saved Cossette and her father from M. Thenardier, since I wanted Eponine to be more "heroic" in a way without Marius knowing. What's fanfic without a little alterations, eh? :D Thanks! From your humble author. **

"What's taking him so long?", "Him, late? It's unheard of!" and "Ah, there you are!" greeted Enjolras as he joined his fellow revolutionists, who were sitting on benches scattered in a solitary park. The day was darkening slowly, and the new morning would hold the fates of these brave, young men.

"Are you ready for this, Enjolras?" asked Combeferre, looking at him steadily.

"Of course!" he retorted irritably, "why wouldn't I be?"

The other shrugged. "You don't seem to be in very high spirits as you ought."

Enjolras pondered over the reply, "Why would I be in high spirits when I knew there was a possibility of my dying the very next morning," but he knew that wouldn't be a very encouraging thing to say. So he answered shortly, "I'm thoughtful today."

"Thoughtful?" cried Grantaire, throwing his head back to laugh, "And what might you be thinking of? A lady, p'raps? Do tell!"

Enjolras, who was not quite innocent of the accusation since he had, in fact, been thinking of the miserable Eponine and her whereabouts—Henri and he had seen her defending Marius at the Rue Plumet , but she had been taken by her father before they could go after her—reddened and replied angrily, "What is that to you!"

At that instant footsteps pattered towards them and Enjolras looked up to see young Monsieur Marius approaching.

"Late again, young lover?" said one among the students, perhaps Joly.

Enjolras stamped his foot impatiently. "Are you here to dream and prattle about that girl who lives at the Rue Plumet or to join us in battle?" To tell the truth, he was rather angry with Marius for two reasons, the first being Marius' blind indifference to Eponine's welfare and the second being his own lack of sleep.

Marius turned a ghostly pale, startled by the words he had just heard. His voice was low when he spoke: "How did you know, monsieur, where she lives?"

Again, Enjolras was caught. But, much to his relief, another pair of footsteps was heard and this time, young Eponine herself could be seen, staggering more than walking to one of the benches a bit further from them. Her face was entirely covered by her hood, but Enjolras could see her eyes shining directly at him and he knew she was addressing him.

He was rather reluctant at first, but then remembering Henri's descriptions of her and her own brave sacrifice for the lovers at the Rue Plumet, he stood up with slight eagerness and went across to her bench, wondering what she could want with someone like him.

"What may I do for you, Eponine?" he asked simply, for Henri had told him how she disliked being called mademoiselle.

She looked up, startled by his gentle tone, and her hood fell to her shoulders, revealing a face marred with bruises and dried blood. He gave a quick gasp, but she quickly turned away and lifted her hood over her head once more.

"I am sorry, monsieur, for—"

"Enjolras."

"Enjolras then. It's not a pretty sight, I know. But I had to come to you. I thought, Monsieur Enjolras might know where my little Henri is. I said to myself, 'Yes, I will go and ask him.' Here I am, monsieur—"

"Enjolras."

"Here I am, Enjolras, to ask you."

"Why?"

"Do you know?"

"Yes."

"Where?" said she.

In her excitement she had unconsciously pressed a pathetically thin hand on his own. He did not draw his back. Instead, he held hers up gently, observing it with a sympathetic look that made her redden and try pulling back.

"He is safe in my house," said the man gently, "Do not worry. He will be happy to know you are safe. But let me help you with those wounds. I have a friend who is a doctor over there and will be able to clean them for you. It will only take a moment."

"No, monsieur—Enjolras, I mean—I would rather not," answered the girl, returning his look with one of a frightened deer. It contrasted oddly with that bold glance she had worn during her confrontation with her father and his gang; Enjolras wondered if she was more frightened of a few kind, intelligent students than a pack of ignorant thieves.

"Henri will not be pleased seeing you like this," he insisted. "Come."

Seeing the truth in this, Eponine stood up reluctantly and followed him to the group of laughing young men. Enjolras noted that she moved closer to him as they walked, not daring to touch him but unconsciously facing his direction as they walked, perhaps because of fear for these students who had never before noticed her at the ABC café.

"Do not be afraid," he whispered to her.

"I am not, monsieur," was the bold reply made useless by the lack of confidence in her eyes. She started and moved involuntarily closer to him as a new voice called,

"Who's that, Enjolras?"

It was Marius who had spoken.

"A friend," he answered, and it confused Eponine to hear no reluctance in his voice and only an anger that was directed towards the interrogator. "Remove your hood, Eponine," he whispered to her.

With obvious reluctance on her part, she did as she was told and gasps arose among the other men. Marius stepped forward and looked at her, his face betraying horror. She looked down, and if her face hadn't been dirty as it was now, Enjolras would have seen her color with shame.

"What happened to you, 'Ponine?"

"Nothing, monsieur," she replied, eyes still remaining on the ground.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," after a pause.

"Then can you do something for me?" he persisted to ask. "I will give you whatever you want for it."

"Of course, monsieur," she said, though there was no enthusiasm in her voice this time.

"No, she cannot," interrupted Enjolras firmly, drawing her away from Marius. "She is occupied."

"I am not, monsieur," began Eponine, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Yes, she is," he continued, staring hard at the young man in front of him. "By the way, Marius, have you decided which path to take?"

Marius looked down, and Eponine, observing something mournful in his eyes, struggled to disengage her hand from Enjolras's. "The lady from the Rue Plumet," Marius began sorrowfully, "is leaving Paris. You know my answer."

"Yes," replied Enjolras softly, for even he could see the man's pure despair. "Come with me, Eponine," said he nevertheless.

"But monsieur—Enjolras—he needs me," she protested.

"I cannot spare you," he said simply. "You have done enough for him, Eponine. Come," and taking her firmly yet gently by the hand, he led her to Joly, who was studying something in a bottle.

"Joly, can you look at this woman's wounds for me?"

"Of course," said the other cheerfully. As he began gently washing the bruises on her cheek, Enjolras began a short interrogation.

"How did this happen?"

"My father."

"Why?"

There was a laugh before the bitter reply: "He isn't really one for mercy, you know."

"That is not what I meant. Why did you save the house on the Rue Plumet?"

She looked up at him suddenly, and there was wonder in her eyes. "How did you know?"

He did not answer.

"It was the right thing to do."

"But if you hadn't warned them, the father would have found the two lovers out, and Marius would be forbidden to see his beloved again, I am sure."

There was a short pause. "Did you see that look in Monsieur Marius's eyes just now?" He nodded. "That was sorrow. Surely even you are familiar with it." Another nod. "I would kill myself before being guilty of giving him that pain, monsieur," she said quietly.

"All done!" cried Joly triumphantly. "The wounds are clean; they'll heal in time. Just make sure not to give them any cause to get infected, yes?"

"Yes, thank you, monsieur."

"The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle!"

"Come, Eponine," said Enjolras, "I'll take you to Henri."

**This chapter is kinda pointless, but I wanted to point out the growing friendship between Enjolras and Eponine. Hope I did that okay! Oky-doki, it's time to study French! I wrote this bit in thirty minutes (my break before I start school again!) Hope you enjoyed! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, okay, I changed quite a bit here. What's fanfiction all about, anyway? I absolutely love both the musical and the book, but this story's got to have a plot! So, just to prepare you for the blow (dramatic pause)… the lines "I know this is no place for me/still I would rather be with you" and the like are omitted-for a purpose, if you will. **

**Hope you enjoy! :D**

Enjolras felt his heart warm as he watched Eponine and Henri rush towards each other, falling into each other's arms. He could see the happiness and relief glowing around the two smiling and laughing at each other, unconscious of anyone else in their own little, beautiful world.

There is nothing more wonderful than seeing one so very dear to you safe, unharmed, and smiling. Eponine, directing her gaze towards the observer, presented a smile that instantly extinguished any doubts Enjolras had concerning her devotion to little Henri. There was something in her eyes, glowing with contentment, relief and gratitude as she looked at him, that filled his own soul with satisfaction and joy.

She walked quietly towards him. "I cannot thank you enough, monsieur."

"It was nothing."

"No," replied the girl, shaking her head softly, "You took care of him; and you helped me. Why?"

There was a short silence. For the first time in his life, Enjolras the great Speaker of the Patria struggled to find words. "Henri has been a very close little friend of mine. He depends on you, and I believe he looks up to you in many ways. You can see it was obviously my duty to help him find you."

"You care for him too," said Eponine simply.

"But what I cannot understand is why you do."

"Why do I care for him?"

"Yes."

"Do you know, monsieur—Enjolras," finding the name unfamiliar on her tongue, "that I had a brother?"

He replied in the negative, and Eponine, looking up at him, found him returning her glance with one of quiet curiosity.

"My mother and father cared not a wit for him," she continued sadly, "And I _could not_ care for him. He left our home at a very tender age and has only visited a few times. I cannot remove the guilt I feel in being so helpless to him. To think of that poor little boy, perhaps starving in the streets!"

It was clear to her listener that as she spoke, she was drawn into a memory and forgot all about him. With the gentleness of a lamb that contrasted with the usual boldness of Enjolras the lion, he led her out of her reverie: "Eponine, you have a little boy now who is waiting for you."

Henri, lying on a soft mattress and waiting impatiently for her, heard the remark and said quickly, "Oh yes, do come and tuck me in! It is frightful outside, you know. Look at that darkness growing out the window!"

At once Eponine was at his side, stroking his soft cheek. "Hush, then, Henri, and I will watch over you. There, isn't that comfortable?" said she, hovering about him and wrapping him warmly in his blanket. Then she sat down on the floor beside him, singing softly to him with such tenderness that the child was quite reassured.

Enjolras watched with the wonder of one who is unused to such motherly guestures, and in his heart of stone, something stirred. Eponine's face, radiating a beautiful peace, shone in the glow of the fire as she hummed and coaxed little Henri into sleep.

Enjolras watched as one bewitched.

Finally a gentle, monotonous breathing could be heard, and Eponine's singing ceased. Henri was asleep.

"What was that you were singing?" asked Enjolras quietly.

"It was a song my mother used to sing to me, before we came here to the city."

A silence; and then, "Are you frightened? About what is to happen tomorrow?"

"You mean when you start the revolution? I'm not sure, M. Enjolras. But I hope there will not be much death." And then she was quiet, no doubt worrying over someone who would join in the fight for freedom when the new day arrived.

After a pause, "Will you sing that song again?"

"Yes."

And the three people remained there the entire night, safe in Monsieur Enjolras's home; the girl singing softly, her brown eyes dark with thoughtfulness; the young man staring at the fire and listening attentively; the child sleeping with a content peacefulness in his face, completely innocent and unconscious of the horrors that would present themselves with the new day.

...

Enjolras stirred from his little corner and found Eponine and Henri still asleep. Quietly stepping out of bed, he walked softly to the opposite corner, where Henri lay contentedly, safe and warm under a mass of sheets and Eponine's protective arm.

He glanced at her face. She was breathing softly, the bruises only slightly visible on her cheek and under her eye. There was peace in her face. "It is well that she sleeps," murmured Enjolras to himself. "Then she doesn't have to endure the life she lives in when she is awake. It is well that she sleeps."

It was a very quiet remark, so soft that no one should have heard it; perhaps it was the tenderness or pity in which it was said, but the moment after the words were said, Enjolras saw the girl's eyes open, the sleep slowly vanishing in them as she looked at him.

"Good morning, Eponine," said he, his marble cheeks slightly reddening, but only so slightly that it was perhaps not visible to the observer.

"Good morning, monsieur," was the answer, still filled with the gratitude of yesterday.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. It's been a long time since I've slept straight. Thank you again—" she began to say, but Enjolras cut her off, with a gentle:

"There is no need to do that, Eponine. I told you that yesterday, but you're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Eponine smiled.

"No worries," he continued, "but if you please, I need you to do something in return."

"Of course, monsieur, anything!" said Eponine willingly, the eagerness flashing in her eye.

"I need you to stay here and keep away from the barricades—"

"But monsieur," began a protesting Eponine.

"None of that, 'Ponine. Please, for Henri's sake," then after a pause, "and for mine."

She looked suddenly at him and saw him looking down at her, his clear eyes fixed directly on hers. Her answer was slow and hesitant, "If you wish it, monsieur…"

"I do," said he earnestly.

"I'm not sure…"

"Think of Henri. Do that for me, will you? I have to go—think about it!"

...

"I do hope she's listened to what I said," thought Enjolras as he dropped another large mattress into the clumsily-built yet firm pile that was to be a part of their barricade. His thoughts began to slowly shift towards his Patria, whom he had not and never would forget, when he caught sight of an unfamiliar young man standing with his back turned. _A volunteer, perhaps, _thought Enjolras, but the man began to look frantically around, as if searching for someone, and his eye met Enjolras's.

"Eponine!" He stared at her in disbelief. "I thought I told you to—"

"Hush!" said the girl, disguised in a long overcoat and pants. It was only then that Enjolras realized there was something frightened in her eyes and voice. "Henri! I thought perhaps he went to look for you! He asked where you'd gone, and I told him! Why did I tell him? He looked so worried!"

"What's the matter?" Enjolras asked dumbly, as if one gone stupid.

"He's gone, Enjolras!" cried she, wringing her hands and trembling.

He took her hands and felt them shaking. "It will be fine. We'll look for him together," he said repeatedly, as if trying to convince himself as well. At that moment, a voice cried,

"Eponine!"

It was Marius.

"Eponine," said he, making his way towards them. "What are you doing here! Never mind," he said without waiting for a reply, "Get out of here before you get hurt!"

She didn't even hear the words of concern that left the mouth of the man she loved. Her mind remained on Henri.

"Here, give this letter to Cosette. That'll get you out of here, and serve another purpose too!"

_You ignorant, thick-skulled child! _thought Enjolras angrily, until another idea entered his mind.

"Go, Eponine."

"What!" Eponine was drawn from her passion. Slowly, she grasped his quiet words and looked at him with wordless confusement that cried out, "Why?"

"I will find Henri. I promise you that I will do my utmost. But look, Marius needs you," he said softly. "I will find him. Go." _The further she is from the barricade, the further she is from danger,_ he thought.

"Promise me?"

"Yes."

She took the letter then; her eyes filled with hurt as she saw and understood the task she was to perform. "_Marius needs me,_" she thought.

"Find him for me," Eponine said one more time and made as if to go, but turning once more, she faced the tall, blue-eyed leader of the revolution and said with genuine concern, "And Enjolras? Be careful."


	10. Chapter 10

In Which Eponine Smiles

Eponine moved softly in the shadows of the streets, alone in the silent night. Her eyes, gleaming in the dark, reflected the thoughtful solemnity of the stars, and above her the moon shone, glorious and bright, its sleepy rays glowing gently in the darkness.

Everyone in Paris was sleeping; everyone but her.

Brown cap set over her reminiscing eyes and long overcoat wrapped around her shivering frame, she slipped through narrow passages and took a stroll beside the quiet Seine. Usually she had observed its foaming waves with longing—it was only the freezing touch of its waters and the tender love for Henri that now kept her from leaping in and putting an end to her suffering. Perhaps there was something else also, but she did not know.

Walking along the river, she closed her eyes and began humming softly. Eponine had never been beautiful; her voice had never possessed that soft beauty of the voice of Marius's beloved. But now, moving under the moonlight, singing to herself, and looking perfectly mournful as she thought of _him_, she was transformed into a beautiful creature of the night, her voice rising slowly to the ether. If only he had been there to see her! But she was alone.

Only the sleepy, smiling moon and the silent heavens were there to mourn for her. As she sang, the skies poured forth a shower of rain as if to show their sorrow for her. Together they sang, the rain sparkling on the pavements and Eponine's voice rising and rising. Together they mourned, her tears mingling with those of the heavens.

…

"Henri!" Enjolras's voice rang with relief. "What are you doing here? You've got Eponine and I worried to death!"

The child raised his eyes sheepishly. "I'm sorry, monsieur. I just couldn't leave you to die here. It will be a massacre! Please, come back with me and make Eponine happy too!"

"And what makes you think she'll care if I die or not? You know Eponine better than I do, Henri, and we both know that revolution doesn't mean a thing to her."

"Not in that sense, monsieur. She'll think of you as wasting your life over something that is purposeless; do you want her to think of you like that?"

There was a pause. "Of course not. But I am not wasting my life over something purposeless, and I'm sure Eponine is aware of that. I am fighting for the right of the people! Surely you of all people must understand that."

"Of course I do."

"Then what makes you say that? And anyway, I am sure if this revolution took place before you even met that girl, you would be joining the war yourself!"

"Yes."

"Then?"

"Isn't it clear to you yet, monsieur? Eponine needs me! And I am sure she needs you too!"

"But the people of France need me!"

"Yes, but you don't know how many lives will die tonight! And besides, they haven't called for your help yet!"

"Eponine hasn't called for my help either!"

Henri drooped his little head. When he lifted it, Enjolras saw his eyes shining with fierce boldness. "Fine! Then I'll fight with you too!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"I… I won't let you."

Suddenly a loud boom cracked in the barricades. Enjolras leapt to his feet.

"What was that, monsieur?" said Henri, trembling slightly, and the fierce blaze disappearedin those child-like eyes.

Enjolras's handsome face was grave. "Hush! Wait here!" said he before slipping away, leaving the child alone in the dark.

Quietly, Enjolras made his way towards where the sound had come. What he saw when he arrived made his stone heart beat faster. He stared in horror.

Eponine was lying in Marius's arms; she was smiling and looking perfectly content, so that Enjolras would have thought nothing was wrong at all, except for the horrible fact that she was lying in a pool of something very dark and her hair was wet with it.

Marius was holding her with a face of quiet despair. Enjolras stumbled towards her.

"She is gone," mumbled Marius softly.

"No!" was the desperate denial as Marius drew aside and Enjolras took his place. As Enjolras looked at the sweet, peaceful face in front of him, his shoulders shook and he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest. Seeing her lying there, cold and senseless, brought forth a strong stab of pain and anguish in him and the love he had for her came rushing upon him like a fierce wave. "She can't be!" Tears dropped from his cold, marble cheek to her peaceful face, and, as if in response to their gentle despair, her eyelids slowly opened. There was a sweet drowsiness of death in them.

She was smiling gently. "Did you find Henri, monsieur?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"Thank you, Enjolras. Can you promise me something?"

For a moment, Enjolras wondered if she was going to ask him to take care of Henri—and he dreaded this greatly, for certainly if Eponine died he would head straight for war. But what she said struck him even more.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered. Her eyes began to close again.

"Wait! You can't…"

She smiled sadly, pushing herself up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek before falling, exhausted, on his knee.

Light footsteps pattered down the steps of the barricade. Dread filled Enjolras's heart as he heard and recognized them. He looked up to see Henri watching with horror-stricken eyes.

"Henri…" Enjolras began.

"No!" cried the child, rushing and throwing himself at Eponine's side. She opened her eyes again, but this time the peace in them was shattered. Now there was only regret.

"I'm sorry, Henri," said she softly.

"You can't die, Eponine. I need you here!" said the boy, expressing Enjolras's own feelings with child-like simplicity.

Worry filled her eyes. She was silent for a while. "Then," she began slowly, "I suppose I must try…" She endeavoured to sit up but ended up clinging to Enjolras's arm with one hand and suppressing a cry as pain shot through her.

"I'm being selfish," said Henri quietly. "It's alright, 'Ponine. I love you, okay? And I promise to take care of myself."

Eponine smiled and, with tears muddling her vision, she looked questioningly at Enjolras, whose face was a mask of suppressed pain.

"Be at peace," was the hesitant yet sure answer to the silent question.

_It's very odd,_ thought Eponine, _that I've never smiled so much in my life until I was about to die. _The last things she saw were the faces of her three beloved friends watching her with accepted grief. And then she was lost in the darkness.

**I'm sorry, dear readers. **** I had to do it, you know. It's not the end of the story, but, after a whole day of torn indecision, I have decided to follow both the book and musical and let her die. Perhaps she will find happiness when there was none in life… but that's another chapter. Hope you keep reading after this disappointing event—if you look at it, though, it's really not that tragic. Don't think of me as cold and cruel; and feel free to ask me about why I think it's not really that sad. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Yup, this is the last chapter! Already I'm starting to wonder if I should make a sequel, but that would be completely impossible since… Well, I might just write another story with a 'happier' ending. I love Eponine and Enjolras! I just had to say that. Ok, on with the story. :D **

In Which the Author Attempts to Draw the Curtains While Leaving the Reader Satisfied

"What will you do now, monsieur?"

"I don't know."

"Will you fight?"

"Yes."

There was silence. And then Enjolras spoke:

"Are you disappointed?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I know what you are doing is a valiant thing. Eponine is sure of it too. As far as I know, noble men only fight for noble causes. But be careful, Enjolras. She asked you to, remember?"

"How can I forget?" There was despair in his voice. "What will you do?"

Henri shrugged, smiling. "Eponine might have wanted you to fight, but she wouldn't have wanted me to. I will probably be watching you and making sure you are taking care of yourself."

"How can you look so happy, after what just happened?"

The smile disappeared and a grave look replaced the mischievous twinkle in the child's eyes as he answered quietly, "She is in a happier place, monsieur. And hopefully we will see her again. But not yet." Henri turned to go.

"Wait—" Enjolras looked at him steadily. "We both wouldn't want something bad to happen to you. Be careful."

Henri grinned. "Always am."

"And Henri? You're a good boy, Henri, and she—Eponine loved you. Don't you forget it."

…..

"Monsieur Marius."

The whisper came from behind him. The young man turned swiftly around and saw a little boy looking up at him with a concerned face. The child's magnificent eyes seemed to be staring straight into his soul.

"Who are you?" Marius asked, feeling his arm relax its tense grip on his rifle.

"Why are you fighting, monsieur? Your mademoiselle would not be pleased."

"What makes you say that? Who are you?"

"She would have wanted you to be careful. Remember that." Then the child disappeared.

…

The fight was fierce. Around him, men were falling.

"Get out of here, Joly!" cried Enjolras. "Get out! Grantaire! Combeffere!"

Still, everywhere men were falling. They would not yield.

_I am so sorry, my friends,_thought he. Then he took his weapon with new strength, new passion and stood tall and proud, his eyes burning at the soldiers in front of him. _For my Patria, for my friends, for Henri! Eponine! _And with that, he ran towards them, crying, "Vive la Revolution!"

…

Revolution!

It boomed with each thundering crash of the cannon; it roared with each blasting fire of the guns; it rung with each clang of steel against steel. The bold young man stands with jaw clenched and eyes flashing, mere symbols of the mighty passion that beat within his breast—singing of revolution!

And yet I cannot hear that glorious sound! All I hear is the shouting of men, the booming of the intruding cannon, the blast of the infinite gunfire. Where is the shining light of hope and liberty? All I see are men falling, falling upon their knees, falling on their backs, falling with their faces upon the ground. I search for the fragrance of freedom, the wonderful smell of springtime come after the dreary darkness of winter. I find only the reek of death.

But look! There is some hope! Yonder stands a man, feet firm upon the ground, head held as high as the weapon of victory in his hands, eyes gleaming with fierce pride! No general, no king can ever shut out that light! And I can almost see it!

Hark! Do you hear that bold refusal of death? The man's cry will echo forever more. "Liberty, equality, fraternity!" No passing of the years can conceal that cry.

And yet where is the man now? The gun is fired; the man is fallen. He lies concealed with his young comrades. They all had their differences but were united by a common cause: revolution! Now where are they? They lie with their eyes open, but now the flame inside those eyes has died and there remains an endless sorrow. Who will remember them? Will someone remember them as they had been, triumphant and glorious in battle, until death finally overcame them?

The rumbling of the thunder has ceased. The gunfire has stopped at last. All is quiet and serene. I stumble from my hiding place, and all around me, there is nothing but endless darkness. Where has hope gone, now that the men in whose hearts it lived no longer live themselves?

Oh, wicked revolution! You stir up hope in the hearts of men till they are bursting with it and you will not stop till it has overflown at last! You have abandoned us, fleeing from us with laughter, leaving us in darkness!

But wait! I see another glimmer of hope! Another faint light glows softly amidst the blackness of my despair. Can it be that something better awaits us? Hush! The light draws near.

Where is hope? It has fled the terrors of war. There it lies, hovering over quiet fields and under solitary trees. Why does no one venture there, when hope is waiting, patient and quiet? There it is! Look to the creeping, rosy light of dawn and see hope arriving when tommorow comes!

"Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!"

**A/N: Wail! Now what do I write? **


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